


We Have More Than This In Common

by helens78



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Breathplay, Character of Color, Community: kink_bingo, First Time, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Podfic Available
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-03
Updated: 2009-06-03
Packaged: 2017-10-05 07:42:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris and John have an interesting shared kink on their resumes, but it takes a tired and slightly punchy Chris to actually bring it up in conversation.  When he does, the results are good for everybody.  This is for the free space, which I am using as "breathplay", square on my <a href="http://kink-bingo.dreamwidth.org/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://kink-bingo.dreamwidth.org/"><b>kink_bingo</b></a> card.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Have More Than This In Common

**Author's Note:**

> PODFIC! This story has podfic available, [see here for the podfic version](http://audiofic.jinjurly.com/we-have-more-than-this-in-common) as read by [thingswithwings](http://thingswithwings.dreamwidth.org). :)
> 
> * * *
> 
>  
> 
> So the deal is this: In 2003, Chris Pine guest-starred in [an episode of CSI: Miami](http://us.imdb.com/title/tt0534796/) in which he plays a killer who likes to do breathplay from the top. In 2005, John Cho guest-starred in [an episode of House](http://us.imdb.com/title/tt0606029/) in which he plays a sub who likes breathplay from the bottom. Several people thought this was a clear sign that Cho/Pine RPF breathplay needed to be written. I am one of those people. OH YES I AM.
> 
> This takes place in a universe where John Cho is not married, and Chris Pine is not dating whoever it is he was dating, and filming _Star Trek_, at some point, involved both men staying in the same hotel while John had a rental car. In point of fact, none of these things may have happened in reality, which is one of many, many signs that this is not real and never happened.
> 
> (Also, when I said it had been "years" since I last wrote breathplay, I was exaggerating; it last came around in July 2008.)

Chris gets punchy when he's tired; John's come up with a dozen different ways to exploit that, from "hey, why don't you pay for the drinks?" to "what was that embarrassing story from your not-really-_that_ misspent youth again?" to "dude, with those nostrils, I bet you can get _this many_ peanuts up your nose". (John insists that the consequences for him on that last one--which were not pretty--were still worth it.)

But when he's driving Chris back to the hotel after four hours of overtime and three beers after, Chris is punchier than usual, and he glances over at John with a gleam in his eye that John can only raise an eyebrow at.

"What?"

"Did I ever tell you I watch _House_?"

John grins. Red light coming up; he pulls to a stop. "No, but that's cool. I did one."

"I saw you."

"Yeah?"

"You look fucking hot getting choked."

John looks over at him, frowning. Chris is grinning like a man four sheets to the wind, but he's not; he's just running on fumes, and he's saying things before he thinks better of them. He grimaces at the look on John's face and sits up a little straighter.

"Oh, shit. I said that out loud."

"Yes. Yes, you did." The light's still red; John keeps looking at Chris. "I look hot _getting choked_? Dude, I was expecting the come-on, but--"

"No, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have--"

"Are you into that?"

Chris looks straight ahead; the ambient light on his face goes from red to green. "You can go," he says.

John keeps driving. "I'm not judging," he says.

"Right."

"I'm just asking."

"Drop it."

"I'm just saying, you tell a guy he looks hot while he's doing breathplay and--"

Even out of the corner of his eye, he can see Chris's head whip around. "What?"

"While he's getting choked--"

"No, that's not what you said just now."

Another red light. John pulls to a stop and taps his fingers on the steering wheel.

"You," Chris says slowly, "_you're_ into breathplay. Aren't you."

"A minute ago you were saying drop it. Now..."

The light turns green again; John keeps going. Chris is quiet for a while.

"I was just thinking it's a pretty major coincidence," he says, finally.

"What is?"

"I played a guy who was into--I mean, okay, he was a serial killer waiting to happen, but--"

"I have a safeword."

"--into, from the top, and I did some research--you have a safeword." Chris exhales hard and fast. "How do you safeword when you're getting choked?"

"I have a non-verbal safeword. Or you can always use a set of blank keys."

"Are we talking about this?"

"That depends on how punchy you really are. I could probably spend tomorrow convincing you that this was all a dream. We both know I _am_ that good."

"Son of a bitch."

John pulls into the hotel parking lot and finds a space. He looks over at Chris, who looks fascinated and interested--and still tired as hell. John laughs.

"You should get some sleep, man, seriously. Whatever we're talking about, we can't do anything with you in this kind of shape. You'd fall asleep on me."

"Pretty sure I wouldn't."

"Whatever, Captain. Come on. Out of the car."

Chris unsnaps his seatbelt, and before John can get to his, Chris has a hand in his t-shirt and he's pulling John over. John grunts and reaches out, puts his hands on Chris's shoulders--this is _not_ how he expected to do this--but Chris is kissing him, and he's better than John expected. He's got full, soft lips, and he slides his tongue against John's lips until John opens his mouth for him.

And he should have seen this coming--should see it as soon as Chris's hand starts moving up from his t-shirt--but when Chris's hand covers John's throat, it's still a shock that sends John reeling. He presses forward, against Chris's palm, without even stopping to think about what he's doing, and Chris increases the pressure. It isn't enough to cut off John's air completely, but it makes John very, very aware of every one of Chris's fingers, the grip he's got on John's throat, how easy it would be for Chris to tighten that grip just a fraction of an inch, just a little more...

Chris pulls back, loosens his grip, but he leaves his hand on John's throat. John's panting, and it's not because he's gasping for air. He licks his lips and stares at Chris, wide-eyed.

"You're probably right," Chris murmurs. He rubs his thumb up and down the side of John's neck; the sensation's like an electric shock going straight down his spine and collecting at the base of his cock. "I'd probably fall asleep on you."

John catches his hand by the wrist and gently-but-firmly pulls it away. "This isn't something I want to improvise," he says quietly.

Chris goes still, moving back far enough that he can look into John's eyes. "Okay," he murmurs. "How do you want to play it?"

John pushes Chris back and gets his seatbelt undone. He turns to the side, facing Chris; he takes Chris's hand, fingers layered over Chris's. Both hands go up to John's throat, and John squeezes just the barest fraction until Chris gets it and gives John a slight hint of pressure. John moves his hand back to Chris's wrist, curling his fingers over it lightly--it's a loose grip, but he's still holding on. "Go ahead," he murmurs. "Kiss me."

Chris does, and John slides his free hand around to the back of Chris's neck. Chris's fingers flex against John's throat, and his fingertips dig in a little harder, but John keeps his air--it's like Chris is waiting for some signal to push in tighter. John tightens his own grip on the back of Chris's neck, pulls him closer, and Chris picks up on it, hand going tight on John's throat until it gets harder and harder to take that next breath, and John pushes Chris away again.

They're both breathing hard now, and Chris licks his lips as John rests his forehead against Chris's. He twists his fingers into Chris's, and lowers both their hands.

"Just so you know," John murmurs, "if you don't follow up on this, I'm going to have to kill you."

Chris groans. "You think I'm going to be able to think about _anything else_\--"

"I'm just saying: they will never find the body."

"You don't think bribery would have been a better bet?"

"I'm not the bribery type."

"Now that's too bad." Chris squeezes John's hand. "I like bribery." He pulls away, then, and John lets him go. "I'll see you in the morning."

John's glad they're at the back entrance of their hotel; he really doesn't want to have to walk through any public areas like this. He still takes a couple minutes before getting out of the car. Chris isn't the only one who's going to be distracted all day tomorrow.

* * *

Chris is wide awake tonight. Wide awake and sober. It's ridiculous that those two things are all it takes to drive John to distraction, but distracted is exactly where he is right now.

"I could use a ride home," Chris says. "What do you say?"

John lifts both eyebrows and stares at Chris, and Chris stares right back.

"Okay."

They actually do make it into John's hotel room before they get started, but it's a near thing. The door closes, and neither one of them so much as reaches for the light switch. John shoves Chris into the door, and Chris wraps one arm around John's waist, pulling him in close. John kisses Chris, hot and sloppy--he's been hard for too long to really give a damn about finesse right now--and Chris brings his free hand up, puts his hand on John's throat _again_.

John grunts--God, he really shouldn't be letting Chris do this without talking about it first, but this is all he's been able to think about all day long, and now just the sensation of Chris's hand on his throat is enough to make his dick hurt. He brings his own hand up, though, catching Chris's wrist.

Chris pulls back, pushes John back, but he puts both arms on John's waist and holds onto him. "Okay," he says. He's out of breath, which makes John grin. "How do you like to do this?"

"On my back." John blinks into the darkness; he can barely make out Chris's face. "How about you?"

"I... ah, with the lights on?" John fumbles behind himself for the light switch; once he gets it on, Chris licks his lips and takes a deep breath. "You want to fuck me while we're doing this?"

"Hey, nobody said anything about fucking." Chris's face falls, and John holds off on his grin for just long enough to sell the moment and collect the _gotcha_ points. "Are you kidding me? Get your fucking clothes off."

Chris makes a noise at that--some kind of strangled-breath-caught-in-throat noise--and John raises an eyebrow. _Hit something with that,_ he thinks. _And he wants me to fuck him while he's choking me. Interesting._ Chris is already starting to strip, doing it while he's on the way toward the bed. John watches him get undressed, and Chris is naked long before John is; John waits until he gets to the foot of the bed and then takes his time. Chris starts looking through the nightstands--the one on the left only contains the usual Gideon Bible, so he crawls across the bed to the one on the right (_crawls_, and damn if that doesn't get John's attention) and makes a triumphant sound as he comes back with condoms and lube.

"There we go, that's it." He turns both lamps on and waits for John to climb into bed, too. "So you have a non-verbal safeword." John demonstrates: middle three fingers folded down over his palm, pinky and thumb extended to the sides. Chris nods. "Okay. You're sure you can use it if you need to?"

"Yes."

"Ever needed to?"

John shakes his head. "The people I know have been careful."

"I'll be careful," Chris promises. He sounds so _earnest_, like a kid getting to drive a car for the first time. It makes John squint at him.

"Have _you_ done this before?"

"I--it's not--" Chris blows out a breath. "Just with you. In the car."

John reaches out and squeezes Chris's shoulder. "It's okay," he murmurs. "I'll talk you through it."

"You'll _talk_ me through it?"

John laughs. "Yeah. Come on."

He gets settled on his back, and Chris straddles his thighs. Chris looks _great_ naked, and he's fully hard and maybe seven inches, uncut. Not bad at all. John reaches out, slides his fingers up and under, cups Chris's balls and rolls them in his palm. Chris grits his teeth together and hisses out a breath, and John gives them a slow, steady squeeze. Chris tilts his head back and groans, and John squirms underneath him.

"You know, we really didn't talk about what you're into," John murmurs. "I mean, I got that you want to cut my breath off, I get _that_, but..." He eases the pressure on Chris's balls for a minute, then squeezes them again, going just a little tighter this time. "You want my honest opinion, you don't seem like the most dominant guy on the block."

"I'm--nngh--not," Chris pants; John eases up again, and Chris catches his breath.

"But you want to do _this_ from the top."

"Choking you?" John nods; Chris nods back. "Yeah," he murmurs. "It's--I don't know. It's what I think about."

"It means I trust you." John drags his fingernails across Chris's balls, gives them a nice firm scratch; Chris groans. "You like that?"

"I like _everything_ right about now," Chris admits, but the smirky little grin turns into a wince as John tightens his grip again. "Yes--yes, I like the trust, I like--I don't know, I just want to feel your throat under my hand, I want to watch you, I--" John eases up. "I want this so much," he murmurs. He licks his lips. "But if you'd rather not--"

"Shhh." John gets his hand around Chris's cock, curls his fingers around it loosely. "Like I said, I'll talk you through it."

Chris thrusts forward, like he can't help himself; John doesn't change the pressure, still keeping his fingers loose. "Okay," he murmurs. He draws his hips back and thrusts forward again; this time John tightens his grip and gives Chris's cock a few twisting strokes. Chris shudders and curls his body forward, both eyes slamming shut.

"Too much right now?" John asks. He doesn't stop stroking until _after_ he's asked the question.

"A--a little."

John takes pity on him and relaxes his grip again. "But having my dick up your ass--that's not going to be too much?"

"Probably will." Chris puts his hands on his thighs and spreads his legs wider. "What about you?"

"Oh, I think I can handle it."

"Is there anything else you need me to do?"

John raises an eyebrow at him. "Well. You could agree not to come before I do."

"Uh, yeah, I'm not sure that's up to me--"

That makes John laugh. "Try."

Chris nods, then swallows hard and nods again. "Okay."

John looks around on the bed. The condom's right next to them, along with the lube, Chris having dropped both at some point. John grabs the condom, but Chris snatches it out of his hand, missing John's arched eyebrow and pointed look. He's so intent on getting the condom onto John's dick he doesn't seem to notice anything else, but once he's finished, he looks up at John's face, and his own expression turns a little crestfallen.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Were you going to lube yourself up, too?"

"I--uh--did you want to...?"

"Do it." John hands the lube over. "_Slowly._"

Chris nods and gets his fingers slicked up; he reaches behind himself, then arches his back to gain a little more reach--it all looks very, very practiced--and while the motion's nice and slow, he starts with three fingers. John smirks at him, and Chris glances down just in time to see it.

"What?"

"You spend a lot of time getting bent over things?"

"Are you complaining?"

"Not even a little." John wraps his hand around Chris's dick and squeezes. Chris grunts, pushing his fingers in harder. "Maybe we'll do that next time."

"What--bend me over something?" Chris draws his hand back and glances around; he goes back to the nightstand and grabs John's last hand towel, wiping his fingers clean. "I like the vote of confidence. You don't think I'm going to fuck this up?"

"No. Come here." John grabs Chris by the wrists and pulls him back over, waits until Chris gets into position, and then squeezes both of Chris's wrists. "I'm going to want this back," he warns, and while Chris is laughing, he lets go of one of Chris's wrists so he can tilt his dick up and help Chris get it worked into place. Chris starts sinking down, and John grabs his wrist back, holding both of them and watching Chris's eyes go dark, watching Chris's lips part and his breath pick up speed as he gets John's dick all the way inside him.

It's a good feeling--always a good feeling, fucking someone new for the first time--but it's the look in Chris's eyes that's doing it for John. Chris has his wrists locked down firmly in John's grip, and he's breathing hard and squirming, and God, he looks so earnest, so eager, like he's not sure what the hell he's gotten himself into but he _definitely_ wants more of what he's getting.

"Move," John says, rocking his hips up when he says it. Chris takes the suggestion and runs with it, hips flexing as he starts moving up and down. John gets into the motion, too, thrusting up as Chris comes down, and as Chris starts to sweat, as he starts grinning and _smirking_ (the guy's too damn handsome for John's own good), John draws Chris's right hand down to his shoulder and lets the left wrist go, too.

"Are you ready?" John asks.

"I--holy fuck, yeah," Chris says. He sits down on John's cock, squirms to get as much of it as he can, and then his thighs tighten against John's hips. "Yeah. Show me how you want it."

John helps Chris get his hand in position--thumb to one side, fingers to the other, and Chris straightens his arm and his back and licks his lips. "Push down--start easy--and hold it for a three-count."

"Okay," Chris murmurs, and John relaxes into the pillows as Chris does exactly as he's told. It's not hard enough to block John's air flow, not completely, but the pressure and the weight of him, the _sight_ of him all focused and eager, it's enough to get John straining _up_ against Chris's grip as Chris takes his hand away, fingers stroking down toward the hollow of John's throat. "How was that?"

"Good. Do it again."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

Again, and this time it's not enough. John's hips rock up hard as Chris pulls back, and Chris grinds down on him. "Oh, God, you look so damn good," Chris groans. "Can I do it again?"

"Give it a five-count." He wants more, wants ten, wants twenty, wants Chris to hold it and slam down on him until John comes with a scream on his lips that he doesn't have the breath to voice, but that'll come later--for now it's a five-count, and it'll do. It'll do.

He counts off five along with Chris, and Chris is panting hard when he lifts his hand away this time. "John, Jesus Christ," Chris moans. He lifts himself up, rides John through a few hard, fast strokes, and John reaches out and squeezes Chris's thigh.

"No--God, stop--"

Chris comes to an immediate halt and takes his hands away; he flails for a second, as if unsure where to put them, and winds up sticking them behind his back. John moans, closes his eyes, tilts his head back. "Dude, you're not helping with that..."

"What? Sorry, God, what did I do, do you need me to stop--"

John winces and looks back up at Chris. He's got his hands out from behind his back again, thank God, they're on his knees. "I don't need you to stop," he says. He licks his lips and takes a breath and keeps going. "I was just really fucking close."

"You--oh. _Oh._" Chris smirks again, but John figures he deserves a moment to smirk; he looked so nervous a minute ago. "I'm not doing half-bad, huh?" He grinds down again, rocking just a fraction of an inch on John's cock.

"Don't push it." John catches Chris by the wrists again. "You want to choke me again?"

"God, yes," Chris whispers. "Wouldn't say no to kissing you again, either."

John doesn't even try to resist that; he tugs Chris down and lets Chris kiss him, and it's another hot, openmouthed, messy kiss like the one against the hotel room door. John slides his tongue against Chris's, puts both his hands on Chris's hips--and then thinks better of it, slipping a hand between them and wrapping his hand around Chris's cock. Chris jerks, mouth pulling away from John's as he groans.

"That's--I'm--" John squeezes; there's not a whole lot of room to jerk Chris off, so he goes with pressure, harder and then lighter, watching Chris's expression go from pleasure to desperation. "John, John, stopstopstop, I'm gonna--"

John stops and tilts his head up, giving Chris a smacking kiss right dead center of his forehead. "Serves you right," he says. He gets his hand out from between them and drapes his arm over Chris's back, holding him until they both calm down a little. "Now," he murmurs. "You want to choke me until I come?"

Chris doesn't get a word out, just a strangled affirmative sound, but he sits back up and brushes his hand over his face; he's still sweating. He bends to the side and wipes his hand off on the bedspread, then flexes his fingers. "I'm ready."

"Oh, I bet." John smirks at him. "Same thing as before, but give it ten this time."

"Okay."

Chris's hand comes down on John's throat again, and John's chest goes tight. He rocks his hips up, harder and faster as the count gets to eight, to nine, and when Chris lets him have a breath, John licks his lips and nods. "Put your other hand on my shoulder," he murmurs. "Keep me pinned down."

Chris does, fingers curling lightly around John's shoulder as he presses John into the mattress. John's thumbs caress Chris's hips, and Chris smiles at him. "Again?"

"Fifteen."

"I don't want to hurt you--"

"Dude, seriously. I can hold my breath for two minutes. Fifteen seconds isn't gonna kill me."

"Good point," Chris says. "Ready?"

"C'mon."

Fifteen seconds doesn't kill him, doesn't come close, but by the end of it, John's got Chris's hips in both hands and he's rocking up hard enough to make Chris wince with every thrust. It's not _much_ of a wince--his eyes narrow just a tiny bit--but John can see it, can read it, and the fact that Chris's gaze doesn't waver and his grip doesn't shift, that's impressive.

"I'm close," John says. His voice is a little hoarse, but that's from being so close, so turned on, not from the breathplay. "Go on. Hold me down and cut my air off and don't let go until I come."

Chris doesn't say anything to that; he just pins John down and runs his fingers up and down the side of John's neck, and John's one breath away from calling Chris a _motherfucking tease_, but then Chris's hand clamps down and John's airflow is _gone_, and John digs his fingers into Chris's hips and thrusts up, _in_, rocking in hard and dragging Chris down and _oh, God, yes_, this is just what he wanted, just what he was after, what Chris's smirk and his goddamned Kirk swagger has been promising since day one, Chris just never knew it--

John comes hard, teeth tight together, back arched, body tense all over, and Chris's hand comes up all at once, leaving John sucking in air and coughing. Chris already has his hand on his cock, though, and he's jerking off so fast it looks like it _hurts_, and before John's done coughing, Chris is coming all over him, coming in hot streaks all over John's stomach, and he collapses with his hand still wrapped around his dick, falling right over on John's chest.

He nuzzles against the side of John's neck, and John resists the urge to point out that _this_ kind of breathplay is _not_ what he's into, instead wrapping his arms loosely around Chris and letting Chris hum out happy noises. It'll be his own fault if his arm gets glued to both their stomachs.

"Hi," Chris murmurs.

John grins, ear-to-ear, and turns his head slightly so he can almost face Chris. "Oh, hello there. My name's John Cho, nice to--"

Chris bites John on the side of the neck.

"--ow, okay, okay, hi to you, too." John keeps grinning.

"That was _really_ hot."

He sounds like he does when he's tired and punchy. John snorts; he wonders if he's gonna get this guy out of his room tonight. He suspects not.

"It was definitely very hot, yes," John says. He nudges John slightly. "You wanna climb off me and get cleaned up?"

"Not so much."

"You're pretty heavy."

Chris does lever himself up at that, and he frowns down at John, but it's a mock-pout that he isn't carrying off very well. "This is what you say after you fuck guys? 'You're pretty heavy'?"

"Only when they're making it hard for me to breathe. Come on, I'm sticky..."

"You're hot when you're sticky." Chris does get up, though, rolling to the side, and he swipes his tongue all the way down John's chest before John can move, stopping when he hits John's pubes. John pauses, but when Chris comes back up so he can stretch out and sigh contentedly, John gets out of bed and heads to the bathroom to clean up.

Chris is at the door waiting when he's done; when John gets back to the bed, he notices the bedspread's on the floor and the sheets are turned down. "Nice service," he calls over his shoulder. "There's no mint?"

"Yeah, no toothbrush, either, but you don't see me complaining." Chris comes back out and stands there, eyeing John from head to foot. "Well. You want to kick me out about now, I'll understand."

"You can go; my feelings won't be hurt. Or you can stay. That'll work, too."

"What are my odds of getting nailed through the mattress in the morning if I stay?"

John grins. "They're pretty good."

"Then I'll stay." Chris runs his tongue over his teeth, which is hotter than it really has any right to be, given the contemplative expression on his face. "But I _am_ gonna go get my toothbrush. I'll be back."

"Do what you've gotta do, man. You know where I am." He glances around the floor for his clothes and finds his pants near the foot of the bed; Chris, meanwhile, has gotten into his jeans and his t-shirt, leaving his boxers and his overshirt behind. He's still barefoot, too.

John digs his keycard out of his wallet and hands it over. Chris grins at him. "Five minutes, tops."

It's seven and a half, more than long enough for John to brush his teeth, wash his face, turn down the lights, and climb into bed with a book. When Chris comes back in, he steps in far enough to make sure John's still there, and he actually waves before realizing how silly that looks. He's got a backpack slung over his shoulder. He's still barefoot.

"I'm gonna brush my teeth."

"I'm not going anywhere."

When Chris comes to bed, he's already naked. He smells like toothpaste and sex, and he stretches out on his stomach, one arm tucked under his pillow, sheets shoved down to his waist. John tosses his book onto the nightstand and double-checks the alarm. He turns out the light and rolls onto his side, and with a little bit of hesitation, slides an arm over Chris's back. Chris responds by scooting over to John until his side is pressed up against John's chest.

"Mmm."

"You are completely shameless," John murmurs. He tucks his head against Chris's shoulder; Chris's back is rising and falling in a steady rhythm, like he's already asleep. John closes his eyes, too, and settles in for the night.

_-end-_


End file.
